The Room
by Spike Speigel1
Summary: Grissom has a conversation with someone from his past. GSR.


Title: The Room

Author: Spike Speigel

Rating: PG-13

Classification: Grissom/Sara

Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me. Just taking them for a joyride. Props to Grissom for help with the medical jargon as well as the second pair of eyes.

Spoilers: Butterflied.

Summary: Grissom has a talk with someone from his past.

Status: Finished.

* * *

I'm trying to open my eyes, but am finding the task a difficult one. I would blame it on the jetlag, but I've been in Los Angeles for well over a day now. And to tell the truth, I've never been one to thrive on sleep. So I find it troubling that I'm having such an arduous time just opening my eyes.

God, why am I so groggy?

My hand instinctively reaches for the bedside lamp, but that's when I realize that my hand isn't moving. I try once more, but to no avail. My mind's screaming to me that something's wrong, but I quickly silence it, trying my other arm.

The same.

I'm about to get up from the bed, and that's when the voice comes back in full force.

I can't move.

I can't see.

What the hell is going on here?

I realize that my breathing has quickened in pace, so I will myself to take slow, deep breaths. Calm down. That's right. Nothing to worry about. I just have to figure out why I can't get up.

Simple enough.

That's when I feel it. Well, not so much feel as not feel. It's a sensation of numbness that I recognize, because I just realized that my fists are clenched tightly, my fingernails digging into my flesh. At least, I think they are. It's a faint tingle, but it's noticeable nonetheless. And there's something else. Something foreign near my wrists.

I try the arms again, this time feeling the pain in my wrists, as though something's just sunk its teeth into them. I jerk my wrists, willing them to move my arms to the sides of my body. Nothing.

Same with my legs.

Same with my feet.

Same with my torso.

Same with my neck.

Either I've become a blind quadriplegic since my arrival in L.A. Or something else is going on. Oddly enough, I find myself wishing for the former. Because in that instance, I would know what was wrong with me. The latter? Not so much. And that bothers me beyond words. The unknown's a terrifying thing. Especially at a moment like this.

Maybe if I call for help?

"Hello! Can anyone hear me? Hello?"

Nothing.

I debate whether or not to try again, eventually deciding against it. Instead, I begin to listen more closely to my surroundings. I'm hoping there'll be a clue, some audio cue, to indicate where I am. Instead, I feel a sense of unease wash over me when I finally realize that there is no sound, save for the sound of my own breathing and a faint white noise in the background. It's an electric hum, not unlike the sound a fluorescent light gives off.

Okay. So, what do I know? I can't see. I can't move. But I can talk. And, I can hear.

I take a deep breath, inhaling loudly as I attempt to identify any olfactory prompt that might prove useful. I cough, exhaling just as quickly as I inhaled, the smell sterile. Medicinal almost. Hospital, maybe?

Not right. Hospitals aren't this quiet. And, surely, someone would have heard me call out earlier.

I'm starting to get that panicked feeling once more, frustration finally getting the better of me as I attempt to get up once more. However, this time I wince in pain as I finally realize what's about my wrists, my neck, and undoubtedly every other part of my body that I can't move.

It feels like rough leather. I test my wrist, twisting my hand about, hoping my fingers can reach the restraint. I can barely feel the edge of it, but there's no doubt in my mind any more. I'm restrained. Blindfolded perhaps?

I don't have long to ponder the question, the loud noise shattering the silence ultimately garnering my attention. I prevent myself from clenching my teeth upon hearing the metal groan against metal. A hinge, no doubt. Which means there's a door. Which means I'm in a room. But where is the room?

Again, I don't have much time to think about it upon hearing footsteps closing in on me. I call out once more, hoping yet doubtful at the same time.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

I'm genuinely surprised when I hear a response.

"Don't be so naïve. Of course there's someone here. Surely your hearing hasn't abandoned you. Or has it? I wonder." There's a familiarity to the voice, but I can't immediately place it. I can hear the footfalls coming closer until they stop. I'm about to speak, but the voice prevents me from doing so. "I know, you're probably thinking, where on Earth could you possibly be? Or maybe you're thinking this is all a bad dream and all you have to do is wake yourself up?"

"Or maybe I'm thinking about whether the Cubs have the doubleheader today or tomorrow."

I'm rewarded with an emotionless chuckle for my levity. "That's right. This isn't real. Keep telling yourself this isn't real and maybe it'll actually come true. How about asking Santa for that telescope again, while you're at it."

I open my mouth, about to respond, but instead, it closes once more as I grimace. The reason I'm grimacing has to do with the sharp pain that's just exploded on the left side of my torso. I'm hissing through gritted teeth when the voice speaks. "I just broke your rib. I can only imagine the pain coursing through your body right about now. And, to think. That's just one rib. Just imagine the sensation if the other twenty-three were to follow suit."

I'm gasping for air as I attempt to speak, trying as best as I can to keep my mind off the broken rib. "What do you want?"

"You still don't know what this is about, do you?"

"Should I?" I groan as my lungs expand in my chest, the pressure doing nothing to alleviate the pain. Shallow breaths. Shallow breaths. I'm so caught up in my mantra that I barely register the cold flash against my skin followed by a slight prick.

"I've just given you a local anesthetic. Lignocaine, to be precise. It'll assuage your pain in a moment."

He's right. I can feel the pain lessening even as he speaks. Doesn't help the fact I have a broken rib. But, right now, I'll take what I can get. "You…you still haven't told me what this is about."

"Perhaps if I jog your memory. Does the name Debbie Marlin ring any proverbial bells?"

It does, actually. And I'm sorry that it does at this particular moment. "Lurie?"

"See? That wasn't that hard, now was it? But, we're all friends here, Dr. Grissom. Or, would you prefer it if I call you Gil? You can call me Vincent, if you'd like."

"You still haven't answered my question, Lurie. What's the meaning of this?"

I can feel his breath washing over my forearm, an amalgamation of cough drops and whiskey. I cough softly at the noxious scent, wincing at the dull pain still residing in my side. "This is about our conversation we started a year ago."

"Conversation?"

"Do you remember what you said to me before I walked out of that interrogation room?"

He already knows that I know the answer. I'll never forget that interrogation. "Yes."

"Well, that's good to hear. Because, we're going to finish what we started."

"Strange. And here I was thinking we concluded that once you ran out of the interrogation room." I'm expecting another form of punishment for my outburst, but instead, he simply chuckles.

"You're right. I did run. Because I thought you were just being a sanctimonious bastard." His tone morphs from casual to serious as he continues. "It'd be a few days later before your words really sunk in. Was I truly 'still here'? I mean, I'd just gotten away with killing Debbie and Michael, and I was okay with it. That was, until you asked me that question. And, to tell you the truth, I haven't been able to find an adequate answer. A year, and I'm still as confused as I was when I walked out of that interrogation room."

I feel the sensation of something grazing my forearm. Latex. He's wearing gloves. Why is he wearing gloves? "But, that's when I remembered you. Two sides of the same coin, you and I. Because, you also had the same choice. You could have risked everything for her, but you didn't. So, in a nutshell, that's why we're here, Grissom. We're here because I want to know why exactly you didn't make the same choice I did."

My sardonic wit's overpowering my common sense at this point. I really can't help it. It's a defense mechanism. And, right now, I need all the defense I can muster. "If that's all you wanted to know, you could have just called. I would have gladly given you the answer along with my mother's recipe for pecan pie."

"But, what guarantee would I have that you'd tell the truth? No, this is better. Because, this way, I'll know whether you're telling the truth or not."

"Oh, and how's that? Got the old lie detector ready to go, do we?"

That's when I feel it. Just as cold as the syringe, but with more heft. "In a sense." Before I realize what's going on, I feel the cold metal plunging into my forearm before it's dragged through my flesh. I know I'm screaming because I can barely hear Lurie laughing at his act. Dear God, he's cutting into me. He's cutting into me. I finally feel the cold vacate my forearm before the latex comes into contact once more. "Now, hold very still. This is going to hurt a bit." Before I can respond, the cold sensation is replaced with one of burning. Of searing heat.

"Oh, God!"

And, as quickly as the sensation began, it quickly dissipates, leaving behind an excruciating pain in my forearm. I think I'm sobbing, but the sharp inhalation and exhalation of my lungs are masking the sound. I'm trying to focus on anything else but the pain in my arm when Lurie finally speaks.

"Just in case you were wondering, I just cut into your forearm with a very sharp scalpel before cauterizing the wound to prevent you from bleeding out. I apologize for the demonstration, but I just wanted you to know the stakes before we began." My breathing is still haggard, but focusing on Lurie's voice seems to be doing the trick. Focus on Lurie. Not the pain. Focus on Lurie. "Here are the rules. I ask a question. You answer. I don't like said answer, there will be a penalty. However, if at some point I do accept said answer, there will be a reward."

My nerves must be firing in succession, because this time there's no mistake that Lurie's just injected me once more. "And the pain will eventually go away. We'll do this until I'm satisfied I've gotten all the answers I need. Any questions?"

"What if…what if…" Focus. Have to focus. "What if…I don't play…along?"

I'm expecting to throw him off with my false bravado. But, instead, he surprises me when he responds, calmly and coolly. "In the event that your penalty doesn't have the desired response, said penalty will then carry over to a third party."

"Third…?" I can't string together a coherent thought. I'm not sure if it's the pain or the anesthetic or a combination of both that's wreaking havoc with my faculties, but in any case, Lurie gets the gist of my question.

"That's right. You know, I only started to comprehend the depth of your words once I saw her. It's amazing, how much they look alike, isn't it?

Oh, no. Oh, God. Oh, no. Please, don't let it be true. Oh, God, no.

"But, I'm getting off topic. In any case, if you fail to comply, Ms. Sidle will bear the brunt of your disobedience."

"You're lying. She's not…here."

Lurie laughs at me, as if I've just said the most absurd thing known to mankind. "What makes you think you're still in Los Angeles? You can be anywhere I want you to be. You, and the lovely Ms. Sidle."

I lurch forward in anger, pain beginning to emanate from my torso and forearm. So much so, I helplessly yield before falling back down onto the hard surface beneath me. "So, the only thing you have to ask yourself is, can you risk it?

My silence is all the answer he needs. "That's what I thought. Now, you rest up. I'll be back later. And then, my dear Grissom, we'll finally finish our little talk."

I hear metal scraping against tile. I hear footfalls moving away from me. I hear a door open and subsequently close. And then, nothing.

* * *

I have no idea how much time has elapsed. It feels like barely an hour when I hear the hinges of the door groan in disgust as Lurie steps back inside. As the footsteps come closer, I find my breathing becoming more erratic. My muscles tense once I hear the rattling of metal upon metal, my mind immediately conjuring up images of sterilized surgical implements. I'm also tense because Lurie's kept the temperature well below room temperature standards. I could probably see the breath escaping from my mouth if I weren't blindfolded.

"Have a good night's sleep?"

Perfect. On top of everything, he's mocking me. "What are you talking about? You were just here."

The laugh emanating from Lurie's mouth isn't one of apprehension, but more disbelief. "I hate to tell you this, but that was, oh, ten hours ago."

"Ten?" That can't be right. Can it?

"Well, it must be difficult keeping track of time, given your current situation."

"How about taking off this blindfold, then? As a show of good faith?"

Another laugh from Lurie. This time, the tone one of condescension. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not. At least, not for the time being." It was worth a shot. "So, are you ready to begin?"

"Would it make a difference if I said no?"

Lurie answers truthfully. "Afraid not."

"Then, I guess it doesn't matter whether I'm ready or not."

"Point. All right, then. You do remember the rules of this tete-a-tete, yes?"

I try to nod but the restraint about my neck prevents me from doing so. Strange, how I forgot that was there. "Yes."

"Very good then. We'll start with the easy questions and work our way to the more difficult ones. Does that work for you?" I don't bother answering him this time. It's all I can do to give him my full attention when, in the back of my mind, I'm thinking that Sara's in a similar predicament. "Okay, then. Let's begin."

He shifts around in what undoubtedly sounds like a cheap hard plastic chair, what with the fabric of his coat scraping against the imperfections of the plastic. Then, after a moment of silence, he begins. "How exactly did you and Ms. Sidle first meet?"

Simple enough. "I was giving a lecture at Berkeley. She invited me out for a cup of coffee afterwards."

"So, she was interested in you from the first moment she saw you?"

The intimacy of the question throws me for a moment. "I…I wouldn't say that. If anything, she was curious about my background in entomology more than anything else."

"And, what about you? Were you interested in her from the first moment you saw her?"

"I was intrigued, more than anything else. It's a rarity to have someone ask questions about a lecture after the fact, but to actually dedicate the time to find the answers. That's something I found admirable about her."

When I think I've figured out where Lurie's going with his line of questioning, he throws me a curveball. "It was the coffee, wasn't it?"

"What?"

"Her inviting you out for coffee. That's what initially attracted you to her, yes?"

"No, I just said…"

I don't get a chance to finish my sentence, what with the scalpel being dragged across my chest. I'm cursing at him in my mind as the pain continues to grow. He knows exactly how deep to go when he's cutting. Guess I should be thankful that's all he's doing, but the stinging expanding from my chest isn't doing much to help matters. I don't scream this time. I promised myself I wouldn't scream for Lurie's amusement. But, I do wince. Especially when he cauterizes the wound almost immediately. I can't tell if my eyes are clenched tight, but guessing by the tears rolling down the sides of my face, I'd say it's a safe bet. I'm trying to slow my erratic breathing when Lurie speaks.

"You're telling me you weren't even the slightest bit attracted to her during that initial encounter?"

"Nuh…no. I…I said no." Then, for some reason unbeknownst to me, I keep on talking. "Maybe. I don't…I don't know."

My pectorals clench upon feeling the needle pierce the surface of my skin. I'm waiting for the serene calm to wash over me much like a junkie. Not that surprising, given the fact that lignocaine acts almost like cocaine. Toxic side effects and everything.

"So, it is possible that you were initially attracted to her from the beginning."

I wait for my breathing to return to normal before I speak. "I don't know." Followed immediately by a sharp pain coursing through my left hand. I bite down on my lower lip, the sharp tinge of blood now evident.

"That was one of your left phalanges, just in case you were wondering. And, to tell the truth, I don't think you're going to have any left intact if you keep lying to me."

"I told you the truth! I'm not lying!" I can hear the distress in my voice, unsure whether it's because of the dislocated bone or because Lurie's having his way with me. I'm expecting another penalty for my brusqueness, but it never comes.

"You know what? I believe you. First time I met Debbie, I didn't think much of her. It wasn't until I got to know her a bit more that the attraction emerged. Is that how it happened with you?" I'm about to answer, but Lurie interrupts, his voice apologetic. "Forgive me if I don't use any lignocaine for your finger. Too much in your system at one time and you could suffer convulsions, coma, respiratory arrest, or even cardiovascular collapse if I'm not careful. Besides, you seem like you have a strong threshold for pain."

I know he's right, but all the same, I'd really love a shot right about now. "You're too good to me."

His chuckle is hearty, genuine. "I'm glad you think so. So, back to the matter at hand, yes?"

"What was the question again?"

"Did your attraction for Sara emerge once you got to know her?"

I answer truthfully. Not because I fear Lurie's next assault. But because I honestly don't care what he thinks at this point. "Yes."

"That's what I thought. You see, we're not that different, you and I." I keep my mouth closed even though it means tasting the blood from my lower lip. "But, there must have come a point where you wanted more than mere friendship."

"You already know the answer." And then, Lurie surprises me with just how well he knows.

"Well, just bits and pieces. Like the time you took her home after she got her DUI. God, you looked so awkward standing at her doorway. Did you want to go in but she wouldn't let you? Or how about when you spent the night with her after her suspension. Must have torn you up inside when she broke down and told you the truth about her family. Knowing you wanted to do more to comfort her but wouldn't dare for fear of taking advantage of her."

I guess he sees something in my countenance, because he answers my unspoken question. "Didn't you wonder what I did with those ten hours while you were here all by your lonesome?"

I literally growl, my voice tinted in anger. "If you've hurt her…"

"Such gusto! Wow! I am impressed, Grissom. I truly am. Here you are, restrained and blindfolded, and you're threatening me? God, I knew there was something about you I liked."

"I mean it, Lurie. If you've even…"

"Didn't touch a hair on her pretty little head. But, that can all change, per our agreement. So, if you're done exuding your machismo, can we continue?"

His voice gives away nothing, so I begrudgingly accept him at his word, hoping that Sara's faring better than I am. "Get on with it."

"It's obvious you want to be more than platonic with Ms. Sidle, so what I want to know, and pay attention, this is where things get really interesting. Why didn't you pursue a relationship with her?"

I say the first thing that comes to mind. "Bad timing." Followed immediately by another sickening snap.

"That's two."

I'm still not screaming. But, I am shouting. "What? What do you want from me? I'm telling you the truth!"

"'Bad timing'? Surely you can do better than that. How about you expound on what exactly you mean when you say 'bad timing'."

"She…she got involved with someone."

"I assume you're talking about the paramedic?"

"Look, if you already know all this…" My middle finger bending in a way it's not supposed to stops me from finishing my thought. I still don't give him the satisfaction of screaming. Instead, I bite down once more on my lower lip, splitting it open more than before.

"I ask. You answer. I thought the rules were rather simple. Do I have to pay a visit to Ms. Sidle to get the point across?"

"No…no. The paramedic. Hank. She was seeing Hank."

"But, Mr. Peddigrew already had a girlfriend. Sara was just a plaything to him. Surely, you don't count that as being involved. Sara certainly didn't once she discovered the truth." I want to say something, but Lurie's revelation's taken me aback. "Wait. Don't tell me you didn't know."

"I…she didn't…"

Lurie's laughing hysterically upon realizing that he's correct. "That's funny. Bad timing indeed. She's just there, waiting for someone to comfort her, and you didn't even know. You know, at least with Debbie, we were able to communicate with one another. Tell the other what we wanted, what we needed."

"Until she had her fill of you, you mean." Yes, I'm bitter. Because the son of a bitch apparently knows more about Sara's personal life than I do.

"Touché. But, that's why we're here, now isn't it? To discover the reason why Debbie left me when, for all intents and purposes, Sara should have left you as well."

"What are you…"

"You know it's the truth. I pampered Debbie. Gave her everything her heart desired. And, still, she pulled away from me. But you. You." I can hear the revulsion in his voice as he continues on with his diatribe. "You can't even tell Sara how you truly feel about her. Have you even held her in your arms? Even as a friend?"

I don't have to think about the question. Because, I already know the answer. Nevertheless, I don't want to say it. Unfortunately, Lurie sees my silence as non-compliance as he revisits the scalpel. The cold steel plunges into the side opposite my broken rib, Lurie twisting the blade ever so slightly that the wound begins to open. The leather bites into every part of my body that they occupy as I groan for both the restraints and the scalpel.

"The more I twist, the more difficult it'll be to seal it. If I were you, I'd answer."

"No! God! I've never held her!" The sharp pain in my side coupled with the leather strap closing off my windpipe should make it difficult for me to talk. So I'm genuinely surprised that it doesn't. "I've never held her!"

And just like that, the foreign object is retracted. I can feel the warmth trickling down my side as Lurie readies the cauterizer. One thousand plus degrees Celsius. I wonder if I'll pass out this time. I pray to God I pass out this time. I honestly don't know how much more of this I can take.

My body tenses upon feeling the filament move across my wet skin, the smell of blood and burnt flesh making me nauseous.

I'm thankful that the leather straps are holding me still, otherwise there's no way in hell I'd be able to remain motionless for this. Once I hear the instrument hit the metal tray, I welcome the inevitable injection. I don't even feel it when Lurie uses the syringe, but I know the inferno on my right side will eventually dissipate. At least, my brain will think so. And, that's good enough for me at this point.

Lurie allows me to recuperate somewhat, continuing his interrogation once my breathing shows a semblance of normalcy. "So, where were we?" I try to answer, but I honestly don't remember. "Oh, that's right. Sara. So, why do you think Sara's remained in Las Vegas when she could easily return to her life in San Francisco? It's not like she's really settled in. Her only friends are people she knows from work. So, why is it, even when she could have a more fulfilling life in San Francisco, she chooses to remain?"

I know the answer. I should. Sara told me the reason she stayed. "Because of me. She stayed because of me."

"And that's what I find troubling. Because I cared very much for Debbie. So much, in fact, that it physically hurt me when she started dating Michael and threw me to the wayside. But even after the way you've treated Sara over the years, still she stays by your side." I feel the latex caressing my left hand gently as he continues. "So, my question to you is, why?"

"Why what?"

My index finger joins my middle, ring, and pinky, the snap almost akin to stepping on a branch. This time, I'm sure I'm sobbing, the cumulative efforts finally beginning to take their toll on me.

"Why does she stay?"

Lurie's hand hovers slightly over mine, the phantom touch of latex still being registered by my skin. "Because she knows."

I can hear Lurie working for the thumb. It's slightly harder to dislocate a thumb, but Lurie does it all the same. Luckily, I'm still trying to register the index, so this attempt doesn't have the same effect. "Remember what we said about expounding?"

I'm not sure why I cough. Maybe it's the fact that the nerves in my body are on overdrive. Maybe it's the fact that my left hand has been rendered useless. Maybe it's the frigid temperature. But, whatever it is, the cough comes. And I can taste blood in it. Am I bleeding internally? I feel Lurie begin to caress my wrist, and I speak, almost Pavlovian in nature.

"Because she knows I care about her."

"How could she possibly know that? You yourself said that you weren't willing to take the risk. So, how could she know something you've never spoken?"

My voice is almost defiant as I spit my words at him. "Because we've never needed words."

"Liar!

My left side explodes once more as I hear an audible crunch. I cough once more, this time certain that it's blood I'm expelling as I hear a loud rattle from the metal tray. Unlike the last time, this time I'm able to register the precision of the strike to my side. Yet more cold metal being pressed against warm flesh. A mallet. He's using a mallet to break my ribs.

I'm gasping for air when I feel Lurie's hand tighten about my throat, the leather biting into my skin as he applies pressure. His voice, while a mere whisper, is laced with malice nonetheless. "You tell me the truth, or I swear to God I'll squeeze the life out of you."

I wonder if Lurie sees the grin on my face as I force my words out. I hope he does. "Debbie…didn't…love…you."

"Oh, and Sara loves you. Is that it? Is that why she stays?" I feel Lurie's grip tighten, my instincts forcing my body to tense against the leather straps restraining me. "Huh? Is that why?"

I spit my answer at him. "Yes!

And, before I know what's happening, Lurie's hand retreats and I cough, a rough, wheezing cough. The present blood I'm now beginning to grow accustomed to. "That's…that's why this…is killing you…isn't it? Debbie didn't…love you."

Lurie's voice, still hushed, now has an air of composure about it. "Why didn't she love me?"

I speak, my voice weak. "Wasn't…meant to…be."

"But you and Sara are. Is that it? Is that why, after everything you've been through, you're still there for the other?"

I'm honest as I answer. "Don't know. I don't know."

I'm thinking I've finally gotten Lurie on the ropes, when he surprises me once more with his next question. "Do you love her?"

"Isn't about…me. About…you. Remember?"

"No, this is about us." It feels as though I've just been kicked in the chest. I'm not that far off as I register the scalpel now pierced in my gut. However, based on the sound of Lurie's voice, he's still in control of his faculties. "Answer the question. Do. You. Love. Her?"

Instead of twisting the scalpel like last time, Lurie pushes it deeper into my stomach, the sensation unbearable. I think I'm about to pass out, but then I feel the scalpel begin to move across my abdomen, the image of tearing flesh and muscle forming in my mind. I don't realize I'm speaking until I actually hear the words emanating from my mouth.

"Yes! God!" The scalpel immediately departs my abdomen, the warm sensation of viscous liquid now spreading across my torso. "Yes. I love her." I hear something metallic hit the floor, I'm envisioning a scalpel coated in my blood resonating against tile. "I loved her…first moment I saw her."

Lurie hasn't reached for the cauterizer yet, blood continuing to ebb from my newly formed wound. I'm beginning to think Lurie's done with me when his voice interrupts the newfound silence, almost sympathetic.

"Hold still. I went deeper than I should have.

I don't say anything; instead I brace myself. However, unlike the previous times, Lurie uses the hypodermic on me first before cauterizing the wound. It still hurts, but not to the extent of the other incisions. My breathing is fatigued, but I'm still able to make out what Lurie's saying, even though his voice is a mere whisper at this point.

"I loved Debbie the first time I saw her too. I guess that makes us both liars, doesn't it?" I respond by exhaling deeply. "Two sides of the same coin, you and I." I'm not really paying attention to Lurie until I hear the footfalls begin to move away from me. Can't let him get to Sara.

"Lurie!" The footfalls cease their advance as I hear Lurie pivoting on the balls of his feet, turning back toward me. "Not the same."

"What?"

"You risked…everything. More…than…I ever…did."

"Doesn't matter. Debbie's dead. I'm still here. Still without the answers I needed."

I'm not sure why I'm still talking. Sara. That's right. Have to keep him away from Sara. "Want to know…real reason…never told her?"

Lurie gets the gist of my broken question. "Tell me."

"Coward."

"I don't understand."

The pain in my gut begins to dwindle as I begin to regain my composure. "Couldn't risk everything…for Sara. Afraid…afraid she might be…my Debbie."

The silence hangs in the room for a moment before I hear Lurie sigh. "But, you still love her. Even though she'll never know?"

"Can't pick…who you love. You just…love."

I can hear Lurie chuckle, but this time without malevolence. Instead, he chuckles with genuine sincerity. "You know, that actually makes sense. I think I finally get it." Lurie begins to laugh heartily as I just try to keep myself from blacking out. Then, he says the strangest thing to me. "You know, you're wrong about Sara."

"Wrong?"

"You said it yourself. Debbie left me because we weren't meant to be. But, Sara. Sara's not Debbie. Do you understand what I'm saying?

I remain silent, not exactly sure what to say. I'm not sure whether it's the fact that I don't know the answer or if my body just won't cooperate with me at this juncture.

"I'm glad we got a chance to finish our conversation. Goodbye, Gil."

The sound of footsteps emerges once more, as does the sound of the door opening. I try to call out to Lurie, but I find myself too weak to respond. Instead, I find myself slipping away, even though the world around me is already shrouded in darkness.

* * *

When next I open my eyes, I find myself in a hospital bed. Apparently, the police got an anonymous tip about my location. Lurie, no doubt.

However, that's not what's on my mind at the moment as I listen to the doctor prattle on about the severity of my injuries. I was there. I know how severe they are. It's Sara that I'm worried about. I keep on asking about Sara, but I keep on getting the same answer. I was the only one to be found on the premises.

And, where exactly did they find me? A mental institution. Abandoned now, but still. Seems somewhat fitting, given the nature of what just occurred. From what I'm able to gather, Lurie gained access to my hotel room and drugged me. More specifically, the bottled water. It was a waiting game after that. And, before I knew it, I'm exactly where Lurie wanted me.

But, I'm still bothered by one thing. Why did he let me go?

I understood his vindictive nature at the beginning, but he seemed sincere, humbled near the end. It just doesn't track for me.

The knock at the door pulls me out of my thoughts, my gaze falling upon a familiar face. "How you doing, buddy?"

"Jim?"

Jim tries to act casual as he walks into the room, but his demeanor gives him away. I can see it on his face just how damaged I really am. "Guess you finally get to use some of that vacation time, huh?"

"How'd you…"

"A friend in the LAPD. Annie. You remember her, right?" I nod, recollecting Jim's narrative about his recent visit to L. A. concerning his daughter. "Well, when she realized you were from Las Vegas, I was the first person she called." I nod, somewhat thankful that there's a friendly face in the room. Jim looks over to the doctor, who's been polite by remaining silent during our conversation. "So, what's the damage, doc?"

"Well, as I was telling Dr. Grissom before, the cast for his hand should assist in resetting his fingers. We had to stitch the cauterized wounds and bandage them. As for the broken ribs, those will mend in time. Just remember to take full, deep breaths to prevent lung infection. It'll be a couple months before you're back to normal, Dr. Grissom." I nod, appreciating the information. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have another patient to look in on." He walks toward Jim, his voice gentle. "He really needs his rest, so try and make it short, okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks, doc." After the doctor leaves, Jim pulls up a chair next to the bed before taking a seat. "LAPD's got a warrant out for Lurie's arrest."

I say, "Okay," even though I know that Lurie won't be found. The tone in his voice was all I needed. The way he said goodbye, I knew it. I'll be very surprised if I ever hear from him ever again. "Sara. Is she okay?"

Jim gives me a puzzled look upon hearing my question. "Far as I know. Why?"

"Lurie said he had her in another room."

"Then he was lying to you. I saw Sara just a few hours ago before Annie called me." He can see that I don't entirely believe him, so he changes his tone to sound more persuasive. "Really. She's fine." He pulls out his cell phone from his jacket pocket, holding it out for me. "Call her if you want." I shake my head slightly, Brass returning the phone to his pocket. "So, did Lurie tell you why he did what he did?"

I tell him the truth. Well, as much as I feel comfortable with. "He wanted to finish the conversation."

I can see the confusion in Jim's eyes, but he must see the fatigue in mine, deciding not to follow up. "Well, I'll let you get some rest. I'll be back tomorrow morning so I can chauffer you back to resplendent Las Vegas." I chuckle softly, the pain on my left side quickly silencing me. "Oh, geez. I'm sorry, Gil. I didn't mean…"

"It's alright. I'll live." I give Jim a smirk indicating I'm okay. "Thanks for coming to get me."

"Any time."

We both exchange a friendly nod before he walks back out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. It takes a few minutes to register that I'm alone once more. I close my eyes, trying to fall asleep, but every time I do, I swear I can hear footsteps walking in my direction. So, I lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling, and telling myself that I'm the only one in the room.

I'm the only one.

I want to believe my words. I really do. It's just, for some reason, I can't find it in myself to do so.

* * *

"Well, this just isn't fair. How come when I go to a conference, I have to go back to work, but Grissom gets a vacation out of it?"

"Nicky!" Catherine playfully taps Nick on the back of his head as Warrick and Greg take in the scene. I'm lying on the couch as the others are seated around me, welcoming me back home. Everyone, except for one person. Catherine must realize what I'm thinking, because she answers my unspoken question. "She was in court when Brass called her. I'm sure she'll get here as soon as she can."

"You're probably right."

"So, boss. You gonna show us your manly wounds or what?"

I smirk at Greg, my tone lighthearted. "I would, but there's a woman present."

Catherine responds, the sarcasm evident. "Please. I've seen you shirtless plenty of times." I give her a questioning glance, greeted by a mischievous smirk. "What? A girl can't look as she's walking past the locker room?"

Warrick grins at Catherine as he chimes in. "Then, I guess you won't mind if I told you I've seen you shirtless too." Catherine quickly whips her head toward Warrick, the mischievous smirk now on his face. "What? A guy can't look as he's walking past the locker room?"

The cushion narrowly misses Warrick's head as he erupts in laughter. Soon enough, everyone in the room's following suit, even Catherine. I wince as I laugh, but it's worth it. I needed this. I really did.

I'm so caught up in the moment that I don't even realize that there's a knock at the door. I start to get up from the couch, but Greg waves his hand at me. "I got it." Before I can voice my objection, he's on his feet and out the living room.

"So, did the doctors say when you'd be able to come back to work?"

I turn my gaze toward Nick, seeing the concern in his demeanor. "A couple weeks. Strictly desk work, but at least it's better than nothing."

Warrick tries to alleviate the mood, but I can see the worry in all their eyes now. "You know, Griss. If I were in your shoes, I'd milk this for all it's worth. You should see Ecklie scrambling at the lab. It's killing him that Curtis is in charge of your shift. I mean, killing him."

I grin slightly, imagining Ecklie fuming from the ears. He'd demoted Curtis because she did the right thing. Sofia must be enjoying every minute of torturing Ecklie right about now. I'm about to speak when we hear a sharp gasp from the kitchen area. I turn my attention to the noise, seeing Greg standing in the living room with his new companion.

"Grissom."

While the others were able to put up a brave front, this clearly isn't the case with Sara. The awkward silence hangs in the air until Catherine finally speaks up. "Well, we should be going. You take care, Grissom."

I nod agreement as the others follow Catherine's lead as they rise from their seats.

"Later, Griss." Nick gently taps my shoulder before following Catherine out.

"Thanks for coming."

Warrick nods at me as he speaks. "You need anything …"

I return the nod. "I'll ask."

"Cool."

I nod to Greg, who's still standing next to Sara. It isn't until Nick taps him on the arm that Greg realizes what's going on. "Uh, later boss. Hope you feel better." He's about to turn around, but quickly stops himself. "Um, this was by your door." He places a large manila envelope on the kitchen counter before following the rest outside.

Then, it's just Sara and me.

I can tell she's having trouble voicing her thoughts, so I break the awkward silence as best I can.

"Catherine told me you were in court."

"Yeah." Even though she's on the far end of the living room, I can see the light glisten in her eyes. She's on the verge of tears.

"It's not as bad as it looks."

Even though she's smiling, her voice betrays her, the sorrow evident. "It looks like you got run over by a truck from where I'm standing."

"Then it's exactly how it looks." I manage a small grin, but it quickly disappears once Sara begins to walk over to me. I begin to get up from the couch, but Sara's hand on my shoulder stops me.

"No. You should…"

I manage to sit up, gesturing with a nod to Sara to take a seat next to me. "I'm okay. Really." She doesn't believe me. Truth be told, I don't entirely believe myself either. "So, how was court?"

Sara laughs, no doubt at the absurdity of the question. "Um, it was fine. Routine, actually."

"Good. That's good." I nod slightly, Sara rewarding me with a small smile. Then, after another moment of silence, she speaks, her voice muted.

"Brass told me what happened. Well, actually, he didn't tell me. All he told me was that you were in the hospital and he had to go to L. A. to pick you up. So, I was hoping you'd fill in some of the more important details. Like, what happened to you?"

"Nothing you need to worry about." Sara turns to me, no doubt about to tell me that she does need to worry about it, so I do the only thing I can at a moment like this. I change the subject. "I…I have to change my bandages. Make yourself at home. I'll be right back."

Sara's hand gently squeezes my leg, her look one of concern. "Do you…do you need any help? I mean, can you reach them all…"

"Yeah, I can reach them all. But, thanks for the offer." I rise from the couch, Sara following suit. I smile at Sara, even though I know that she's hurt because I won't tell her about what happened in Los Angeles. And, if everything goes as planned, I'll never tell her. She doesn't need to know the details. All that matters is that it's over. It's over, and I just want to put it all behind me.

Sara eventually returns my smile, her voice tender. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

That's when I remember the package Greg brought in. "Could you see what's in the envelope?" I motion to the kitchen counter with my head and Sara nods.

"Yeah, I can do that."

"Okay, I'll be right out."

"Okay."

Once I'm inside the bathroom, I gingerly remove the cotton bandages from the places where Lurie's blade dug into me. I grimace as I place the new ones on, my ribs acting up when I get to the incisions near them. When I'm confident of the dressing, I carefully slide into a loose t-shirt, so as to allow ample room between the fabric and my skin.

I'm thinking about what I'm going to say to Sara once I get back to the living room, but a familiar voice jolts me from my thoughts. As I emerge from the bedroom, I see Sara standing next to the kitchen counter, a mini-tape recorder in hand. Her expression is unmistakable, as is the voice on the tape.

_You tell me the truth, or I swear to God I'll squeeze the life out of you._

I begin to move toward Sara, wanting desperately to stop the tape from going any further, but I look in her eyes, and I find myself unable to move. So, I do the only thing I can. I hold her gaze as I relive a day I'm trying desperately to forget.

_Debbie…didn't…love…you._

_Oh, and Sara loves you. Is that it? Is that why she stays? Huh? Is that why?_

_Yes! That's…that's why this…is killing you…isn't it? Debbie didn't…love you._

_Why didn't she love me?_

_Wasn't…meant to…be._

_But you and Sara are. Is that it? Is that why, after everything you've been through, you're still there for the other?_

I look away from Sara, not wanting her to see how this is affecting me. How hearing Lurie's words mingled with my anguish is making me uncomfortable.

_Don't know. I don't know._

_Do you love her?_

_Isn't about…me. About…you. Remember?_

_No, this is about us. Answer the question. Do. You. Love. Her?_

_Yes! God! Yes. I love her. I loved her…first moment I saw her._

Sara begins to cry at this point, her sobs resonating in my ears. Whether it's the declaration of love of the sounds of torture that cause her to cry, I'm not entirely sure. Nevertheless, Sara begins to walk deliberately toward me.

_Hold still. I went deeper than I should have. I loved Debbie the first time I saw her too. I guess that makes us both liars, doesn't it? Two sides of the same coin, you and I._

_Lurie! Not the same._

_What?_

_You risked…everything. More…than…I ever…did._

I feel the tips of Sara's fingers as she tilts my gaze to hers. I try to look away, but the sorrow in her eyes prevents me from doing otherwise. There's something else there, but I can't readily identify it.

_Doesn't matter. Debbie's dead. I'm still here. Still without the answers I needed._

_Want to know…real reason…never told her?_

_Tell me._

_Coward._

Sara tenderly holds my injured left hand in hers, caressing it gently with her thumb. I finally realize what it was I saw in her eyes. I realize, but am afraid to believe it for fear that I might be wrong.

_I don't understand._

_Couldn't risk everything…for Sara. Afraid…afraid she might be…my Debbie._

Her free hand reaches for the edge of my shirt, my good hand reaching to stop her. However, I inevitably relent, knowing that she needs to know the truth. She needs to know the extent of Lurie's ministrations. She needs to put the sounds on the tape into context.

_But, you still love her. Even though she'll never know?_

Her gasp is one of sadness upon seeing the field of white cotton spaced about my torso. I look at her eyes as they roam my body, moving from the incision in my right side to the one in my abdomen and finally to the discoloration of my left side. Her hand tenderly caresses my chest, the touch electric. Her fingers journey from injury to injury, gently touching each as though she were trying to take the pain away from me.

_Can't pick…who you love. You just…love._

Sara carefully pulls the shirt back over my battered torso before returning her gaze to me. Her tears come faster now upon realizing the scope of my injuries. She's probably blaming herself right now for what Lurie did to me even though she's not responsible. The tape all but says it's her fault. But, it isn't. It's my own fault. My own fault I never risked telling her exactly how I felt from the first moment I saw her.

_You know, that actually makes sense. I think I finally get it. You know, you're wrong about Sara._

My right arm wraps around Sara's waist as I pull her closer to me. Her body stiffens, not out of revulsion, but out of fear because she doesn't want to cause me any more pain than I've already suffered. I can see it in her eyes. She wants me to pull her closer, but she's afraid of hurting me. Nevertheless, I succeed in pulling her into my embrace, Sara burying her face into my chest. Her sobs rend my heart, the anguish worse than any injury inflicted by Lurie.

_Wrong?_

_You said it yourself. Debbie left me because we weren't meant to be. But, Sara. Sara's not Debbie. Do you understand what I'm saying? I'm glad we got a chance to finish our conversation. Goodbye, Gil._

The recorder clicks off, the room now silent. I don't know what to say to the woman in my arm, so instead I let my actions speak for me as I place a tender kiss on top of her head. I feel Sara's arms wrapping around my waist as her body presses closer against mine. I'm not sure how long we remain like this, but I don't mind. Not even the pain could make me let go now.

As I continue to hold Sara, I remember Lurie's last words to me in the interrogation room.

_I'm still here._

And I plan to remain here for as long as she'll let me.

_Fin_


End file.
